Stages of Attraction
by aliasphan
Summary: Jesse's POV on his transition from friendship to his growing attraction to this dark, mysterious girl. Mostly in canon to start, will roll off slightly toward the end.
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, this is a weird fic for me - I like a lot of dialogue in fic, whether I'm reading it or writing it. And with these two, the snappy dialogue is the best part ("No," you're automatically saying,"the ENDINGS are the best part!") But this idea does not have a lot of dialogue - mostly Jesse reflection; I'll try to do as much dialogue as I can. Gonna be a short one - maybe 5 chapters. Thanks for reading, and please review! **

Everything was coming together great, he thought to himself as he walked briskly to the auxiliary theater. Jesse had only been at Barden a month, but he felt like he had things under control; classes and his roommate were good, he found some time to spend on the pianos in the music department each week, he made a few friends and he was looking forward to auditions today. The Treblemakers were a critical lynch pin in his plan for success; the guy who can sing always get the girl.

Not that there was "the" girl just yet – there were a fair share of potential candidates for his attention on campus, and he knew that list would grow as soon as he was a Treble, just as it did in high school through show choir and the drama club.

In addition to the standard fare, Jesse was also keeping his eye on his co-worker; there was something about Beca that was telling him not to rule her out. He didn't know exactly what it was, but he meant what he said about her being "beautiful the whole time." He wouldn't be a guy if he didn't notice her certain obvious physical assets, even if she did hide them under grunge gear that would make Cobain take notice, and enough eye makeup to keep Max Factor in business.

These musings carried him into auditions, where after a solid Clarkson rendition, he was confident that he would be approached by the Trebles. Heading out of the theater, he reached for his phone and realized he left his hoodie, and his phone, backstage. A quick jog had him entering the building to overhear a conversation on stage – weird, he thought auditions were over. And that voice seemed vaguely familiar, though there was something different…

He poked his head around the corner, only to be shocked at a seated Beca onstage. Huh – that's why it seemed familiar, just minus the sarcasm and cynical air it usually carried. What was she-

And he stopped mid-thought, as the confident timbre of her voice assaulted him. A lusty alto he could not believe was coming out of THAT personality floated out into the theater, pretty much knocking all the listeners back in their seats. That, paired with the obvious ability to keep a complex beat going (in a truly unique way) quite literally put him into a daze. He shook his head in disbelief, and the word "wow" pretty much summed up the entire experience.

Armed with this new knowledge, he grabbed his forgotten stuff and headed out again. Beca Mitchell just rose a giant notch in his Barden female rankings, not only for her ability to turn his insides into butter, but the enigma she kept turning out to be. He kinda liked a girl that would keep him on his toes.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, weirdo," Jesse called out as he entered the station, raising his voice above the volume of the on-air music currently broadcasting. Luckily, Luke had another DJ in the booth on Wednesdays, and Jesse was always glad to get out of his usual lunch run.

Good thing, too – his mind was likely too preoccupied to get the standard burger order correct. On his way out of his film lab, a cute blonde girl whose name he really wasn't sure about (Jen? Jenna? Jamie?) had stopped him in the hall to ask him out. Girls asking guys out – this was the new frontier of college. He was so startled he gave her a "yeah sure!" without really thinking. How did this all work – was Jen/Jenna/Jamie going to plan the date and pick up the tab? Was he supposed to put too much thought into his wardrobe and get a manicure prior? Was he going to be expected to put out?

He needed to ask a girl, who was a friend. A friend-girl.

Hey wait…speaking of – where was that Beca?

"Beca?" he called again, to be greeted with a resounding sound of silence (since the DJ was currently favoring Simon & Garfunkel in the booth).

Huh, no answer. He walked over and turned down the volume in the studio, and then could pick up her voice. She was softly singing, probably with her headphones on and drowning out the station's current offerings. He grinned to himself as he picked up the classic Cheap Trick lyrics.

_I want you to want me,  
I need you to need me,  
I'd love you to love me,  
I'm begging you to beg me._

Not a Beca standard…was it retro 70s Wednesday? Though it didn't seem like her usual, her voice did it justice, and the way it broke over the words sent a small shiver down Jesse's back. It wasn't often he heard her sing, she not being as overtly bold as he was at belting out any tune that came to mind. Regardless of her rare performance, his need to pick her brain about girls and Sadie Hawkins-type dates overrode his interest.

Jesse slid his bag at the desk and pulled a crate of music to be shelved toward him. Culling through, he pulled all the music that belonged upstairs and took the steps two at a time, following her voice to the back corner of the mezzanine. The heat was already cranking in this old building, though it was only November in the South, and he felt a line of sweat bead up at his hairline.

Working with Beca was easy and fun – he knew he could always get a good flirt in, and took it upon himself to see how often he could get her to break her "absolutely no laughing at nerds to encourage weird behavior" rule. They often made sarcastic cracks at each other, at Luke, and at pretty much anything available. Though she wasn't as chatty about her personal life, he shared a lot and they talked about classes and daily stuff. Well, he talked, mostly. She did a lot of eye rolling. He looked forward to their witty repartee, and now, was glad to have a female friend to bounce this entire novel situation off of.

Now on the second floor, Jesse spotted Beca backing to the end of an aisle, belting out the end of the song, where it slows and dramatizes, as she shelved. She had removed her normal bleak outer layer as a nod to the rising temperature of the office, probably believing herself alone. The black (of course) tank top she had underneath was artfully sliced, horizontally, from neckline to hem, the skinny bands of jersey bouncing a bit as she grooved to the music.

For some reason, this tiny glimpse of never-before-seen skin accelerated Jesse's heartrate. Sure, he knew Beca was pretty, openly acknowledging it at their first meeting, and he had a small crush on her voice, that was certain…but this opportunity to see her, unguarded, presented a whole new angle to his growing interest in this girl.

He ducked in the row behind and across the aisle from her so he could see her through the racks from an angle. When she bent over to shelve some lower albums, the bands of jersey draped and slid to expose a large section of her back, revealing yet another tattoo, definitely some kind of grouping of words. The swath of porcelain flesh, interrupted by the dark ink, made his stomach clench in a not unpleasant sensation. She stood again, this time reaching for the very highest shelf. The tank rose up at her waistline, showing another glimpse of skin, as did his gaze…up, up, up to catch the angle of her graceful neck as she leaned back and reached, bare-armed, to get the CD into the right slot.

What was he coming up here to ask her again? All thoughts of Jen/Jenna/Jamie (maybe Jeannie?) exited, stage left.

He swallowed hard and brought his eyes back to his own sorting, throwing a few CDs on the shelf. _Stop being a creep_. _You could be George McFly spying on Lorraine right now…_

His mind drifted off the movie reference when his eyes were drawn back to her through the shelf as a new song must have rolled to her playlist, and he quickly placed the chorus as Aretha Franklin:

_There's no, no looking back for us  
We've got a love that, sure nuff, that's enough  
You're all, you're all I need  
You're all, you're all I need  
You're all, you're all I need  
You're all I need to get by_

It suited her hearty voice quite well, and the slow style suited the sultry heat of the mezzanine. She was facing his direction now, and was raising her arms to gather all her hair up into a very high, very un-Beca-like ponytail on the top of her head. A startling amount of skin was on display here: arms, shoulders, neck…the jersey stretched across her breasts and clung in bunches, so that when she was finished, she pulled the material away from her body a bit, to straighten it again as well as bring a breeze to her flushed skin.

This effectively drew Jesse's gaze to her neckline, her standard low-cut number that indicated she either didn't seem to know what a nice rack she was sporting, or she didn't care if she showed them off. Whenever she wore something like this, he always guessed it was an odd mix of both of those sentiments, just as Beca herself was a bit of an odd mix of many things. Not that he really kept tabs on her wardrobe.

He followed her neckline to the cord of her headphones, to the headphones themselves, which he was just now noticing were not on her head, but casually draped around her neck. His gaze continued to rise until he met her eyes. And realized she was watching him, watching her, through the shelving.

He swallowed hard again. Did it literally just get hotter in here?

"Hey, creeper," Beca addressed him. "Next time, take a picture, it'll last longer."

"What? I don't know what you're…"

"Yeah, you know exactly what I'm…" she cut him off, a smirk growing on her face, raising her eyebrows at her inference.

"I'm just shelving CDs," Jesse said, staying in his safe spot. "If you happened to be in my line of sight at that exact moment, well that was just fortunate for all of us."

"Huh," she huffed. "Yeah, ok."

As he continued to shelve diligently to the end of the row, she brushed past him headed back toward the stairs with her crate, being sure the warm skin on her arm came in contact with his.

"I'm headed back down," she called over her shoulder. "Need anything? More CDs? A cold shower?"

He cringed and dropped his forehead to the shelf in front of him. "If you could bring me the Barry Manilow stack I think that would be an all-around assist," he called back.

Her genuine laughter floated up from the stairwell, which only served to heighten his response to this girl. Maybe instead of worrying about Jen/Jenna/Jamie, he should delve deeper into the girl downstairs.

If she would even let him. Oh well, he shrugged, as he finished his stack and turned to follow Beca downstairs; if there was anything he was up to, it was a challenge.


	3. Chapter 3

Brilliance struck in the form of a circle – a DVD to be specific. Jesse had been racking his brain to figure out how to draw Beca into a conversation consisting of more than caustic remarks and snarky jabs around their usual topics. He was also running out of clever album cover manipulation at the station. The hours he was putting in brainstorming on this topic, in addition to slyly checking her out, stalking her schedule and coercing Luke to play whatever it was Beca was submitting to him, altogether, were quickly eclipsing the rest of his life. Even Benji was starting to look at him a little funny, for a guy with gerbils in his pants.

It was safe to say his interest in this girl had escalated to above average levels. He needed to know if there was real meat here for a relationship. Jesse, in all his time spent with rom-coms, knew he needed more than just a pretty girl for a girlfriend, though Beca definitely had pretty all locked up. He needed something deeper – some kind of understanding of something to build a relationship on.

And today, while reorganizing his DVD collection looking for everything scored by John Williams, he finally got it. What better way to find out more about her interests than by sharing his? This was the greatest plan ever.

He jumped up from his racks of DVDs and starting pacing, shaking Jurassic Park in his hand for emphasis. They could watch a movie, and he would tell her all about his dreams of scoring, she'd tell him about her favorite movies and why she loved them, which would lead to her talking about the other things she loved. They would create the ultimate bond over cinema.

He glanced at the clock, checked his mental Beca GPS and figured he'd be able to catch her now in the quad after her Statistics class. Strike while the idea was hot and before he had a chance to overthink it. Yeah, he'd been known to do that.

He threw his stack of favorites into his bag with some snacks and a citronella candle (who knows? They could be in the quad until after sundown…ok, right, overthinking it now…), grabbed a towel to sit on and headed out on some Beca-caching.

* * *

And just as quickly as his brilliant idea arose, it was dashed. As Beca talked about her disinterest in movies, Jesse felt a cold splash of anxiety wash over his interest in her. How could HE, who lived and died by the brilliance of cinema and the scores they contained, be with someone who had absolutely NO interest in it?

All this was rolling through his mind as she teased him about the meaning of "Vader," and he still couldn't help but notice how cute she was while telling him about the interpretation of the name. And the way she bit the straw on the juice pouch while flashing him that smile. And her wonderful sarcasm.

Then it struck him. Regardless of the topic, they were still having a conversation that included more than just your basic, surface-level teasing. He had learned some things – her parents were divorced. She knew some German. She didn't like trips to the gynecologist (yeah that was too much info). He could work with this.

After his declaration that a movication was in order (which she didn't deny, by the way – mental note to get that scheduled), the topic of the riff-off rose.

"What the hell is a riff-off?" Beca said, her attitude showing she had it up to about here with crazy aca-antics.

"What do you mean, what is it? It's tonight! Aubrey hasn't told you guys about this?" he asked, disbelief coloring his words. The blonde was so uptight, he was surprised she wasn't appearing at their dorm rooms at random and siccing them with a lyric to match.

Beca had the good grace to blush slightly. "I guess it's _possible_ she told us…we have rehearsal tonight, which now that you're saying this, is a weird time. I figured it was just Aubrey finding an extra slot to hone her non-vomit singing skills."

Jesse chuckled, as Aubrey's explosive singing skills were infamous in the a capella circuit, and then brought her up to speed on the competition that evening while she gurgled air along with the last of the juice pouch.

"So, we stand in a gross, empty pool, in the freezing dark, and challenge the other lame groups a capella chops, all for the glory of an outdated microphone?"

"I think that sums it up," Jesse assesses. "Though you did forget the bragging rights that come along with it; that's actually the biggest prize. We've been practicing with the possible categories and the older guys are showing us examples of how it works. It seems like it'll be fun…"

Beca pulls a cocked-eyebrow face that tells him she thinks differently.

"…but as we've established, you don't like anything fun," Jesse finishes. "So what do you do for amusement, Ms. Mitchell? Write European History papers," he says, as he gestures to her open book on the grass, and her computer.

"Yeah, that does sound way better. I love a little Napolean at Waterloo – really gets me going."

"Ok," he laughs, "well, my computer plays movies, that I love. What's on yours that's so interesting?" He leans over her to turn the screen in his direction.

Beca slaps his hand away and shuts the screen. "Nothing!"

He sits back, shocked by both her quick reaction and the scent of freesia that whipped his way with the slamming of the laptop. "Whoa, that's quite a reaction. That can only mean one of two things – you're watching porn, or you're writing love letters to your secret, estranged Internet lover who you've never met in real life but have a soul kinship for."

"Don't talk about Jacques that way," Beca said with affront. "He's very sensitive; he's a Pisces."

He's not sure if he should take her seriously, until she lets out a snorty laugh. "Dude, no. Like you, I am not attached, in real life or cyberspace. And it's not porn, or European History – though they can sometimes be alike..." she muses.

"Stalking an original tamigachi on eBay?" he guesses, relief flooding his senses at her declaration of unattachment.

"Nope."

"Day trading?"

"No!"

"Researching Luke's diet and workout regiment?"

She laughs at that one. "Yeah, and his tattoo artist of choice," she says with a grin. She looks at him, the grin fading, and meets his eyes. He can feel that she is taking his weight and measure.

She sighs the sigh of the long-suffering. "You're not going to leave me alone until I tell you what I was doing, are you?"

"I am at this moment mentally compiling hundreds of thousands of guesses, which I will shout at you in any public venue I spot you in," Jesse replies gleefully.

"You live to annoy me," she mutters as she pulls her laptop over to her and resignedly opens it up. "I was working on mixing some tracks."

"Is this the stuff you're always giving to Luke?" he asks, genuine interest showing through.

"Yeah. I want to produce music, 'when I grow up'" she says the end in a lower pitch, mocking his earlier statement.

He gives her a light punch on the arm, and scoots closer so he can see the screen over the glare of the lowering sun (and perhaps pick up another whiff of her perfume). "This looks like some serious software," he says, eyes flying over the widgets and scrub bars.

"I'm always trying out new ones," she says, as her mouse swoops around on the screen. "This is the latest. If you couldn't already tell," she glances up with a smirk, then back to the screen, "I'm not the kind of girl to spend her extra money on trendy clothes and expensive haircuts. Never had a fancy dress dance to save for. All my money goes into this," she says, pointing to the screen.

"And you love it," he surmises. He can tell from her tone that this computer, this music, is really where her life begins and ends. It's not just the setting sun that is making her skin and hair glow as she talks; she has literally come alive while discussing her favorite topic. Her face is lit up, her eyes engaged. Jesse allows himself a second to revel in the closeness that has sprung up during this interaction; it has gone way better than he could have hoped for. Also, he feels himself falling harder for her with every passing second.

"Let me hear it," he urges.

"No way! Uh, it isn't done yet," she says, flustered.

"You're always giving that stuff to Luke," he says, putting on his offended tone. "Are you telling me you like Luke better than me?" He stops and makes a show of considering. "Wait, don't answer that."

"Don't worry – Luke isn't giving me the time of day, musically or otherwise," she says, and he can see she is slightly deflated over this fact (hopefully the former part, and not the latter).

Like any good friend, he changes the subject. "So, when I'm scoring my blockbuster soundtracks, you can produce them," he says with enthusiasm. "We'll be like an unstoppable duo!"

"Ok, put away your song-writing super-tights, geek boy," Beca laughs. She saves her track and shuts the computer, turning her crossed legs and body to face him and reaching for the box of hard pretzels. "So if you want to score movies, does that mean you can play an instrument?" she asks, scrounging around for a pretzel fragment she approves of.

Wait, did Beca just initiate a conversation topic of some substance? With him?

Pulling himself out of his shocked state, he shared that he had been playing piano since he was 5, and has also picked up some guitar, saxophone, trombone, violin and drums.

"Whoa, you're like a musical genius," she says, genuine respect showing in her eyes. "What's your major, anyway? And why do I not know that already?" She crunches down on her selected pretzel.

"Yeah, some friend you are," he teases, thrilled she is actually taking an interest. "It's music theory and composition, with a minor in business."

"Wow, get after it. And you have time to work a job and be in the Trebles? Do you sleep?" she asks, no longer occupied with the pretzels, but totally engaged in this conversation.

"I drink a lot of 5-hour energy," he says. "5 a day, so I get that extra hour in. And, don't forget, finding the time and energy to annoy you," he adds, hoping she sees how important this relationship is to him.

"And that," she agrees, smiling even up to her eyes.

"So what's your major?" he asks, pulling the box of pretzels back toward himself.

She shrugs. "Nothing, yet. I'm just kind of phoning it in here; I really want to get out to L.A. and start working," she says, reaching for her boots. "I'm hoping after a year my dad will realize college is not the place for me and let the caged bird fly," she finishes, as she pulls one boot on after the other.

He is alarmed by the potential of her leaving, both Barden and this conversation. No, no boots, he thinks, mentally scrambling. This is going so well; he doesn't want it to end. She is slapping her book closed and putting that and her laptop into her bag.

"Ok weirdo – you have to eat before you riff, right?" he asks, gathering his things.

"Yeah, what of it? You want to torment me with more movie madness while I gag over campus food?"

Sounds like an invitation to Jesse. "Thought you'd never ask. Stop me if you've heard this: BA-BAM!" He looks at her expectantly.

She quirks an eyebrow, a smile sliding up her cheek.

"Jaws, come on! Two notes and you have a villain. I don't know what to say about it. Totally brill."

As they walk toward the dining hall, Jesse turns around to walk backwards, and mimes slow-running while he sings "Chariots of Fire." She walk-runs up to him and pulls him around in the right direction, looping her arm through his to get him to stop misbehaving and drawing attention.

"Chariots of Fire, Bec! Such a great score by Vangelis. He took electronic scores to a new level. It was groundbreaking. I'm gonna test you on this later."

Beca is shaking her head. Jesse clears his throat and appears to pull himself together.

"Sometimes I get self-conscious about my…" he begins in a normal voice, only to self-interrupt to blast out the "Gone With the Wind" soundtrack and continues singing, "Are you embarrassed by this game I've started to play?"

Beca shushes him. Both their voices die off in volume as they walk away, but not Jesse's in enthusiasm.

"Okay, it's not a library, I can go loud," he says, as he pulls her toward food. "Come on, let's carb up so I can school you later, Ms. Mitchell."

**Last lines taken from The Holiday, featuring another scoring character, Jack Black as Miles. **

**I always figured the riff-off was right after this, since Jesse is wearing the same outfit (do I stalk this movie or what?) Anyone else have other thoughts? Is it in a week, and that's his laundry cycle? **


	4. Chapter 4

You'd think the atmosphere in a cavernous, crumbling, abandoned pool would be less than desirable, but the afternoon with Beca, coupled with the adrenaline of competition starting to flow through his veins, meant he was charged up and ready to win this.

Not to mention that he was using every opportunity to flirt with Beca across the swim lanes, mouthing silent threats to her. Her apathy was adorable; he could not help remembering how easily she had latched on to his arm earlier in the day. How she casually dropped the topic of a girlfriend into their conversation. He hoped the growing comfort level between them would lead to even more time spent together.

But right now, he so could not wait to belt out some great lyrics in the sweet spot that Benji had pointed out earlier; he would totally use this opportunity to show her just what he was thinking. Since the Trebles had Justin fanboying hard at their doorstep at all hours of the day, they were pretty prepared for the various topics and he knew many of them revolved around hormones.

Speaking of hormones, the absolute ambiance in the pool was one of getting funky. Everyone was drinking, flirting, talking smack and having a good time. The more attractive members of the Bellas were all decked out; it was hard not to stare directly at Stacie's assets. Jesse was trying to be a gentleman, but he WAS 18. His gaze kept getting pulled back to her ample bosom like it had a tractor beam installed instead of high beams. Yes, the pheromones were flying.

He kept glancing across the pool at her. Resuming her slouch in the shadows, Beca had just handed a bottle back to Cynthia Rose after taking a rather large swig. Arms crossed and knee cocked, her body language absolutely declared that she wanted to be anywhere else but here; everything except her eyes, ever-attentive and observant of those around her, the corner of her mouth sometimes ticking up at whatever insights or humor her brain was finding in the entire situation. He wanted to draw her close to him so they could whisper together, his mouth hot against her ear as he pointed out the utter hilarity that was Bumper, the hijinx of the High Notes…and she would purse her lips and exhale a restrained laugh through her nose, turning in his arms to bless him with those glittering eyes…his hands would fall to her lower back, drawing her even tighter to him…

Donald nudged him back to reality from his daydream. Right, pay attention. He could feel his competitive spirit flaring up with each passing moment, with each last reminder from Bumper. He loved performance and singing, but he also loved to win. After the vocal alarm to begin, each performance just escalated his need not only to show Beca how he could score on stage, but to be the best while doing it.

He came out enthusiastic into an overzealous and short-lived performance on Mickey, but that's ok – Beca appeared to be amused. He could work with that.

Then, Aubrey, of all people, taunted Bumper with what her momma gave her (yeah, he looked. He's 18 – like, obligated to check out moving girl parts), and Stacie and CR blasted out a hot performance on a hot topic (AGAIN, how can you NOT look?) when Donald pulled the Trebles into the obvious "Let's Talk about Sex." Jesse laughed to himself as he caught Beca's rolling eyes at the chorus, and was reminded of her adamant declaration at their first meeting that he please not say the word 'lovers' ever again in reference to them. She was staying in the back, but he could see an amused smirk growing on her face at his obvious focus on her while he performed.

Stacie, he had to hand it to her, retaliated on Donald's sweet spot with a slow jam, and then Jesse finally found an opening that suited his classic rock ballad preferences. Can't go wrong with Foreigner.

_And I guess it's just the woman in you  
That brings out the man in me_

And he points at Beca, like the great Bambino calling his shot.

Then, he sees it – her amused smirk alters slightly. It morphs into one of those, "oh please (but I'm secretly charmed)" faces. He is holding her eye, and he feels invincible, like a young Billy Joel. Like a big shot. She is smiling and then –

She is running. Toward him.

Before he can even comprehend what is happening, Beca is in his face. And she is rapping.

Not only is she boldly blurting rhymes with a speed and alacrity of a pro, she is shining. Her eyes are alight. She is sure, and confident, and blazingly gorgeous.

As he is swept off center stage by her, (gladly) and he falls back in shock, it's not just at what is happening in that moment. But it is in the realization that she wasn't just amused a second ago. She was feeling all the things he was feeling: the escalating competition and the want to win, the knowledge that SHE was better, and the buzz of performing.

As many ways as she seemed his opposite in her attitude and her approach, in that moment, he got a glimpse that underneath, they were more alike than she'd ever willingly admit. Jesse found it ironic that they were standing in the deep end of the pool, because he for sure was in deep for this girl, and all the things he was discovering about her that dragged him into this apparently bottomless infatuation.

Probably against a major Treble by-law, he encourages her when she starts to die off due to lack of support from the Bellas. Crickets are chirping, the crowd is silent, but the shaky grin she throws him says she's all in, because she is not about to drop the ball when a competition is at stake.

_Shawty, get down, good lord…_

Jesse's heart thrills. He wants to hear that voice all day, every day. He wants it on his voicemail. He wants it in his ear when he wakes up, and while he watches movies, and across the table from him when he eats. He wants it directed up at him under an umbrella in the rain. He wants it behind a stack of records, and snuggled up on his shoulder sharing headphones to an iPod sitting in a second-class seat to wherever they're going to. His brain starts to implode in on itself as it imagines the many iterations of the voice and all he wants it to say, over a lifetime.

Holy. Shit.

He comes back to himself with a sharp inhale, rejoining the conscious moment by the sound of Bellas harmonizing under Beca's direction. She was drawing them in like a conductor, and then, when confident they had it under control, turning around to face him. With a smirk to rival his own best smirkiness. And a head bob-sultry eye combo that he would probably be taking to bed with him that night, if only in his imagination.

He glanced at his teammates and noticed many jaws were on tile as the AUDIENCE began to join in. No one was even thinking of challenging, or looking for an opening, because Beca and the Bellas had the situation handily under control. They were schooling the Trebles, and everyone was LOVING it. Of course, it was your standard underdog moment, so Jesse was loving it too. If the crowd swarmed the pool and lifted Beca on to their shoulders, it would be the ultimate ending.

And yet…

Moments after, Justin was announcing their win based on a technicality and the Trebles were pushing him to run a group victory lap around the pool, high fiving any and all takers and picking up victory beers on the way. After the adrenaline wore off, Jesse looked down into the pool to see a dejected group of Bellas dispersing toward the shallow end, Aubrey charging ahead, and Beca trickling toward the back.

He cupped his hands around his mouth to yell her name, but at that moment, a hand clapped down on his shoulder.

"Don't," Benji said. "Aubrey just ripped her a new one. Don't make it harder on her."

Jessed turned to face him, confused. "Harder? What she did was unreal! I need to tell her how aca-awesome she is," he said.

"If you do that, like this, the wrath of Aubrey on her you will bring," Benji said.

"Wha-why would that matter? And did you just phrase that in Yoda-syntax?"

Benji ignored him, looking down on the girls as they dribbled out of the natatorium and back to campus proper. His face grew pensive, and he spoke in a quiet hush.

"Ever since the dawn of the oath, when a Treble takes a Bella, she is a Bella no more," he whispered, his breath puffing in the frigid night air.

"What the what are you talking about, man? What oath?"

Benji seemed to come back to himself. "Wait, you don't know about the oath?"

And that night, on the way back to their dorm room, Benji gave Jesse the condensed version of the intricate history between the Bellas and the Trebles, along with the frightening consequences that came along with being "Trebleboned."

As he lay in bed that evening, still amped from not just the win but all the revelations of the evening, Jesse had to believe that there was something there, something stronger than vocal-cord ripping wolves. Something real and amazing, if only he could convince Beca to take a chance on him. On them. Something in that head bob told him there was a chance that she would.

And he fell asleep with ABBA rolling through his head.

**This seems to be a thing, where people list songs and other references at the end here…so in case you didn't see them…**

**Billy Joel – Big Shot**

**Joss Stone – Nothing Better Than**

**Yoda**

**ABBA – Take A Chance On Me**

**Thanks to all who are reading and reviewing! It warms the cockles of my stone-cold heart :-)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Just to clarify - I know very little about music. Suspend your disbelief if you know more for the sake of the narrative...**

* * *

Jesse used the well-worn eraser on his No.2 pencil on the paper perched on the sheet music stand yet again, adjusting some notes and tucking it back behind his ear. He flipped the page over to begin again, to see if he'd gotten it right this time. Just as he started in on the first measures, a knocking to his right startled him out of his intense concentration and practically caused all his carefully arranged sheets to cascade to the floor.

He looked through the full-glass, soundproof door to see Beca, hand and eyebrows raised in an amused greeting.

"Hey! Come in!" he said, motioning since she couldn't hear him. She pulled the heavy door open, resulting in a loud sucking sound as it pulled against the seal of the vacuum. The row of small practice rooms in the music building were tiny, just large enough for an upright piano and a player. Beca stood in the doorway. It was a surprise to see her, but a welcome distraction.

"Hey, nerd. How's it going?" she said, leaning against the frame.

"Aah, ok," Jesse said, running a hand back and forth over his hair. "I'm working on this project for my class – it's due tomorrow."

"Yeah I know – how do you think I knew where to find you? Benji gave me the 411," Beca said.

"You were looking for me? Remind me to mark this day in my journal," Jesse joked.

"You missed your appointed make-Beca-suffer-through-a-movie time," she pointed out. "I was at your room on time, you can write that in your diary as well, with your little pink Lisa Frank pen with the bells on the back. Benji made me sit through all his new card tricks before he would tell me where you might be."

Jesse dropped his head in his hands in frustration. "Ah, God, Beca, I'm sorry! I totally forgot – I got so wrapped up in this, and it's not really going well here…I'm so, so sorry. Here, let me get this stuff together – " He was so pissed at himself; if anything was going to endear him to Beca, ignoring commitments certainly wasn't it. He had weaseled a bit of info out of her about the painful divorce she alluded to before. Her dad walking out on her and her mom had made a very deep, indelible mark on her psyche, one he in no way wanted to share.

Beca took a step up into the tiny stall, holding out her hand in reassurance. "Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal. I figured the music building might have sunk into the ground for you to miss a movie, so I thought I'd make sure you were ok. I can't stack all the CDs at the station by myself, you know," she said, with a faint blush.

She worried about him? That was new. That meant she actually thought about him when he wasn't around.

Outwardly, he smiled at her small joke. "Ah, so it was your own self-interest that sent you to find my carcass in the rubble. What time is it, anyway?"

"8:30. Where's your phone? I tried to text you," she replied, looking around the room. Oh, this just kept getting better and better.

"I put it on silent – I didn't want any distractions. Wow, 8:30. I've been in here for 4 hours – way longer than I thought this would take me," he said, blowing out a frustrated breath and looking up at her. "I'm really sorry, Beca," he said.

"Jesse, really, don't. If anything, I owe your prof a Coke for getting me out of the movie. So…listen, I'll get out of your way. You're alive, so I'll go," she smiled at her own awkward admittance of her concern and put her hand back on the door again, but then seemed to remember something. She started digging in her bag, her voice muffled a bit by the hair that fell as she faced down. "Oh! I brought you a water and a bag of Combos – cheese and pretzel, right?"

Jesse blinked, turning his body with slight shock to her figure in the doorway. "Yeah," he replied slowly, taking the things from her outstretched hand. "Aw, honey, you cooked."

She shrugged. "Once Benji told me when he last saw you, I figured you might have missed a meal. And I was right. So that's three things for your journal – Beca was looking for you, Beca was on time, Beca was right," she ticked off the items on her fingers.

He laughed and nodded in agreement. "Ok, duly noted – thanks for the summary. And the snack. You're the best. In fact…"

Jesse put his hands on the keys and played a few bars from Rocky, while he sang

_You're the best, around  
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down!  
You're the best, around  
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down!  
You're the best, around  
Nothing's gonna ever keep you dooooooooooown!_

"HEY! Shut your door!" someone yelled from down the hall. "No one wants to hear Bill Conti!"

Beca's face turned into highly delighted laughter as she pulled the door closed quickly and was fully inside the room. "Whoops. Music nerds are gonna mutiny," she said.

"Yeah, well, not everyone agrees on Rocky being on my list of best-scored films," he replied. "For instance, that person."

"What are you doing, anyway?" she asked, stepping closer and dropping her bag, declaring her intent to stay. Yes, there was certainly a lot of fodder for his diary here…not diary, journal…or, er, memory bank. Jesse didn't keep any of those aforementioned items…that anyone knew about.

"Uh, we have to take a section of Clare de Lune and recreate it into a different style," he answered as he gestured back to his sheet music. "I'm going for jazz."

"Well, let's hear it," Beca said, stepping up behind him.

Jesse was so tempted to turn around – he knew how close she was standing. Over the past two weeks since the riff-off, they'd been spending quite a lot of time together, in addition to their work time at the radio station. Catching her in the quad was almost a daily occurrence; they'd had a few meals together and even went to hear music at the local coffeehouse last weekend. Not to mention his now enforced movication "dates." All strictly platonic, of course.

Shyeah, for Beca it was. Jesse was constantly itching as he restrained himself from taking her hand while walking, or putting it on the small of her back when holding a door to escort her through, or just plain old leaning against her as they watched movies on his small laptop screen. The most play he was getting was when their hands sometimes brushed together in the popcorn bowl, and no amount of buttery oil could make that collision worthwhile. He knew – he started buying extra butter flavor, and it wasn't doing it for him.

Beca's light freesia perfume floated toward him as he lay his hands on the keys. He took a deep breath and started to play his jazz rendition of Clare de Lune. His hands were bouncing expertly over the keys for a few measures, until he got to the part he was currently stumped on and they slowed. "That's where I am now. This last part wasn't working out so well," he said.

Beca leaned her left elbow on his right shoulder and leaned around his side, pointing to the sheet music at exactly the place where he seemed to be having trouble. "I think you need to go back here and tweak it a little," she said, "Kind of bolder, and then maybe bring it to an end that is more similar to the original arrangement."

Jesse was breathless. Not only was she pressing her warm body against him, she was reading his music.

"Can you play?" he asked, turning his head in shock to meet her eyes, very close to his own. "You didn't tell me that!"

"YOU didn't ask," she said, her face lit up at having surprised him. "Here, scooch," she said, coming around the right side of the bench and gesturing for him to move over. "What if you do this part like this," she said, and, putting her hands on the keys, tried a slightly different interpretation of the segment they were talking about.

He leaned to his left slightly, giving her some space to reach all that she needed. When she finished, she looked up at him. Then she reached over and put her hand on his chin, pushing his mouth closed in jest.

"Beca," he said, and stared at her.

"What?" she said, looking unsure.

"How did you just do that in 30 seconds and I've been working on that last part for an hour?"

"Because I am a musical genius," she said, with a shrug, as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Damn right. Now play it again, so I can transcribe it," he said, pulling the pencil out from behind his ear again.

Jesse could tell Beca was enjoying herself as they worked through the final portion together. Jesse was too. Having her tiny thigh pressed up against his was just an added bonus.

"Seriously, you saved my bacon. 'You're the best, around…"

Beca put her hand against his mouth. "Dude, no. Don't." Oh God, fingers touching lips. Miles of midnight mind fodder, happening right now.

"Mphkay," came his response before she pulled her hand away. He reached for his folder to put the final assignment away, and a stack of hand-written sheet music slid into her lap.

"Whoa, sorry…"Jesse made a grab for it, his fingertips sliding against her denim, arms getting tangled with her own as they both reached to grab the paper.

"That's ok, here, here's your…Benji's song?" Beca looked at him quizzically, a laugh evolving in her eyes.

"Yeah, ok, I can explain this," he said. He could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks. He just hoped the many versions of Beca odes were not in the pile she held in her hands. "Ok, so, I want to score movies, right?"

"Uh huh."

"So when I see people, or like, know them, sometimes I start to think about, you know, whattheirthememusicwouldbe," he rushed out at the end in a mumble, finally securing all the paper back into his folder.

"Uh, what?" she said, complete amusement playing across her features. "Oh, you HAVE to play one of those. Do the Benji one."

Jesse sighed. As confident and as cocky as he could be, this was definitely revealing a part of himself he didn't share much, a part that was still new and vulnerable. He tried to deflect.

"Don't tell me you've never thought about this – what would be the perfect theme song for a person," he said.

"Nope, never. I'm not as big a weirdo as you. Now, play it," she said, bumping her shoulder against his.

Jesse put his hands back on the piano, but with a gleam in his eye. Instead of the innocent, playful and earnest notes that he had ascribed to Benji, he struck up the Imperial March theme with vigor.

A genuine laugh bubbled out of Beca, surprising both of them. "Okay," she said, nodding in concession. "That's too funny – that is the complete opposite of Benji," she said, around her chuckle.

"I know, give me another one," he said, warming up to this.

She gave him a side eye. "Kimmy Jin."

He thought for a second, and then bounced out a couple bars of the Mission Impossible theme. "Don't you think? She's totally a spy under that cool cucumber exterior," he said. "Go again."

"Aubrey."

This time he brought his voice into it. "I hate the world today, you're so good to me, I know but I can't change," he sang, playing Meredith Brooks. She nodded in agreement.

"Do Chloe."

"Uh, no thanks, I think she's got a boyfriend," he said, complete innocence on his face. She laughed, not a general occurrence at his humor.

"Yeah I know, I met him in the shower," she said.

Jesse's head about swiveled off his neck. "Wait, what?"

She sighed. "I'll tell you later. Now, Chloe."

He struck up a quick version of the Golden Girls theme, complete with vocal accompaniment.

Beca's giggles were escalating quickly. "Ok, Donald!" she gasped.

Jesse looked at her blankly. "Wow, um…let's see," he fiddled a bit with the keys, finally settling on the Super Mario Bros. theme. Beca's eyebrows came together, an expression of befuddlement on her features.

"I don't know, he's always on his phone," Jesse shrugged helplessly. "Who else?"

Beca bit her lip and nodded her head at his folder. "You have one for me in there?" she said.

"Uh, no," Jesse said, watching her calculatingly. "I have no idea what you're –" and he cut off as soon as she made a grab for the folder. There was a minor scuffle, both of them vying for possession, Beca coming up triumphant. She twisted away and Jesse reached an arm around her as he leaned in from the opposite side, causing her to balk toward his arm. His hand brushed against the side of her breast and he seized the folder. They both froze.

Beca looked over her shoulder at him, her mouth open in shock.

"Okay, sorry about that. Boob graze. That was accidental. Accidental boob graze. I'm sorry," he said, his hands up in mild surrender. Ohgodohgodohgod.

Her shock morphed into amusement. "Okay, you're forgiven. But only if I get to grope yours later," she said. He exhaled in shocked amusement and only recovered when she then announced, "Game on!" and turned, reaching in to tickle his stomach (damn her finding that out), resulting in a loud guffaw and twist away from Jesse, causing her to grab the treasure and thrust it in the air triumphantly with a shout of "Yes!"

As she began to page through it, Jesse spoke up in a last ditch maneuver. "Okay, okay. You don't have to find it in there. I'll play it. Close that," he said.

She did and looked at him expectantly.

Jesse cracked his knuckles and stretched out his fingers experimentally. Then he looked up at her. "I'm not going to do this justice without a full brass and percussion ensemble," he began.

She made a rolling motion with her hand, rolling her eyes and indicating he should get on with it. He looked at her seriously, and then, after a salty intro, started belting out Joss Stone:

_Work it  
Girls we gotta work it like we do  
Turn a head or two_

Cause we're worth it  
So I ain't gonna waste my time waiting on you  
Gotta make your move

You've had my number for two or three days or more  
If you're a real man then you can't ignore mmmm, mmmm this

Sometimes it's physical  
But I want supernatural  
I don't have wings but I'm ready to fall  
I deserve it all

Headturner yeah  
Soul burner  
Ya gonna watch me walk, then watch me walk

Headturner yeah  
Are you a slow learner  
Come and take my hand  
Cause I'll find another man

If you're gonna watch me walk, then watch me walk  
Ya gotta earn it  
Nothing in life is free you gotta bring your love to me baby, baby, baby  
Emotional, mmm I got it  
Sexual, mmm I got it  
Spiritual, God knows I've got it  
What you want, baby I got it

The entire time he was singing, Jesse kept glancing up at Beca to find her expression teetering on the intersection of complete amusement and charmed disbelief. At this point she interrupted him by putting her hand on his arm.

"Okay, Aretha, that was very soulful. But I know that's Joss Stone. You can't con the music master. And now I am going to find my theme song in this here folder," she said, cracking it open, "and I'll play it myself if you refuse," she said, looking him in the eyes with a final dare.

He blew out a deep breath, exhaustion and frustration causing him to give in. "Alright, okay. Just remember you asked…and it's only for fun," he said, looking for her approval.

"I'm Beca Mitchell and I approve this theme song," she said. He cocked an eyebrow at her humor.

"Okay, sorry, go. Just, I'm sure it's fine," she said, reassuringly.

Jesse held out his hand for the folder and found the appropriate sheets, merely labeled as "Beca" on the top. At least he'd refrained from drawing hearts and rainbows all over them. He glanced over at her as her eyes scanned the music rapidly. Well, now or never.

He put his fingertips to ivory and played his composition. It carried a heavy baseline at first, a sullen composition in the minor key, but after just a brief intro, he morphed into a brighter melody, sometimes disguising a sweetness, that tracked on top of a bold harmony. The rhythm moved from tentative to confident. Jesse had tried to pour all he knew about her, and all he was discovering every day, into the composition and the performance. When he finished, he just stared at his hands on the keys.

"So, that's me, huh?" she asked, quietly. He could not look, he could not look…

He had to look.

"I used only the good notes," he said as he met her eyes.

What he found was an openness he had not seen before. Her face seemed pleasantly resigned, thankful that she no longer had to hold up that mask in front of someone, just one person. That finally, someone saw past it all, past the tiny badass shell and the mocking exterior, to the girl who saw humor and excitement in a lot of things, if she gave them a chance, and if they gave her one too. To someone who could use a friend, a true one that would stand by her no matter what, and who needed someone to challenge her to open up to love. His composition appreciated shocking people, just like she did, but it was also smart, bright and alive.

She nodded her head slowly, and he could swear her eyes were bright, moisture welling just at the edge. She swallowed, and blinked, and sniffed. "I think you crushed it, as Fat Amy would say," she said finally, with a small smile.

"Yeah?" Jesse breathed in disbelief.

"Yeah. Hans Zimmer better start planning his retirement," she said. With a deep breath, she seemed to pull herself out of her reverie, looking around as if she just remembered they were together, practically in each other's laps, in a small, confined, space with only the sound of their breathing as companion.

"Uh well, I should get going," she said awkwardly, a little too loudly, breaking the spell as she moved to pick up her bag.

"Yes. Me too," Jesse replied, gathering his things together again. "Beca, thanks again, for your help. I could have been here all night," he said earnestly, hoping to acknowledge the walls that had been broken down over the past two hours.

"Sure thing," she said, hand on the glass and ready to push. "Maybe if I stick around this joint I'll be frequenting the scary music cells along with you," she said. She opened the door and paused, turning to look back at him. They locked eyes for a silent second, and she was making her way back to the bench, putting a knee up on it to lean in close to his ear.

"Thank you, for that," she said, brushing a kiss so light on his cheek that he wasn't sure it even happened. She avoided his gaze and pushed out of the room.

Jesse jumped up from the bench, catching the door before it sealed, and looked out at her retreating form as she moved past the rows of piano rooms.

"See you tomorrow, dork," he called. She raised her arm in goodbye, whistling Joss Stone as she moved around the corner and out of sight.

Huh.

* * *

**Wow, beaucoup references here. **

**Rocky, You're the Best Around**

**Harry the Piano, mashup #7 for the idea of Clare de Lune as jazz**

**The Holiday again, for some words and the idea of an individual's theme music**

**The Imperial March, Mission Impossible, Meredith Brooks "Bitch", the Golden Girls Theme and Super Mario Bros. theme**

**Joss Stone, Headturner**

**Thank you for reading, and following, and favoriting. It gives me such a rush, like Benji :-)** **Your reviews would make my head explode! **


	6. Chapter 6

**This was starting to get really long, so I'm breaking it into two chapters. As you will tell by the end, it is starting to veer off canon, which I'm ok with, and I hope you are too. I think it's fun to explore other options in the storyline. **

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"…and that was ah-MAY-zing, the way you layered that Rhianna song in when I was doing 'Singing in the Rain' on the 'songs about water' category," Jesse was saying as he held open the door to Baker Hall for Beca. "I think we should sing together all the time. Screw this college thing and the Bellas and the Trebles. We should go on the road."

Beca just laughed as she walked past him and into the dorm. Some days, they spent so much time together that at some appointed hour, they reached this cozy comfort level with each other. There was less snarking, and infinitely more open conversation, fun, and sometimes, a casual physical contact that told tons about what was percolating underneath, for both of them. A light punch or tap, an arm around the shoulder or through the elbow, a brush of fingers.

Jesse had felt it before, and clearly misread it. He knew, he just KNEW, that while they were watching Judd Nelson stick it to the man, she was thinking about kissing him too. For some reason, she pulled back. He knew about the oath, and figured that was part of it, but there was something else. Had Jimmy Kin not interrupted at that moment, Jesse would like to think that he would have hashed it out with her. But then again, he did scurry out of her room pretty quickly. So maybe not.

At any rate, the following day at the station, Beca greeted him as if nothing had happened, so he decided to ignore it as well. It was like those choose-your-own-adventure books; he was flipping back and trying another route.

Beca grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers loosely with his while they walked down her hall and he was reminded that tonight's comfort level was also aided slightly by alcohol. He had dragged her to a retro matinee of Raiders of the Lost Ark in town, whereafter they mutually agreed on dinner at the Chinese buffet. There, Beca got a text that the Bellas were socializing minus their senior members that evening. Jesse convinced her with the aid of a fortune cookie (_A pleasant surprise is waiting for you_) to go and bring him along with her. He figured getting to know her friends and teammates would further endear him to her, and give him another perspective on Beca Mitchell.

They arrived at Jessica's suite-size room and the Bellas were already into their karaoke performances. Jesse got a text from Kolio asking what he was up to, and suddenly an impromptu Bellas/Treble hangout (again, minus Bumper and Donald) was occurring. Karaoke turned into a riff-off type competition, until Beca and Jesse collaborated and then the mash-ups began. Now it was 3 a.m. and they were a little giddy off all the alcohol and the adrenaline of the two groups getting along so well.

Beca stopped at her door and dragged her keys out of her pocket, turning to face him as he continued to rattle on with aca-analysis. He automatically grabbed them from her hand and elbowed her out of the way and he put the correct key in the slot, unlocking her door for her and handing them back.

"And then, when the guys were doing Centerfold and Cynthia Rose busted in with Hot in Here, that was unreal. I think you're starting to wear on them, Bec. Before you know it," he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, "all the Bellas are going to be begging for you to mix their set list. Really, I think if you can get the girls on board," and he leaned in and kissed the other cheek, "you guys can mutiny and muscle Aubrey into a change for regionals."

It was at this point that Jesse realized he was staring at the star dangling from her necklace, his nose awfully close to her jaw line. He straightened up to meet her eyes, finding amusement and shock present in equal measure.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to kiss you twice... and then linger a long time on the second kiss," he said, hands up in his traditional stance whenever he seemed to do something like this. His subconscious caught him monologuing and deciding to intervene with an initiation of physical contact. Damn his subconscious. But she smelled so good and she was standing so close…

Beca smiled up at him. "Ok, loverboy. Head off to your cell and see if those moves work on the roomie," she said.

Jesse cringed and silently noted her redirection. "Ugh, that is not an image I needed. Thanks ever so. He's home for the weekend, for what it's worth." He started walking backwards down the hallway. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mitchell."

Beca raised her hand in a wave as she silently pushed in to her room, the door closing quietly behind her.

Jesse turned around and continued down the hall, mentally reviewing their time together and reveling in their great day, so much so that he almost missed the click of the door behind him, and the whisper-yelled, "Swanson!" that followed.

Turning, he found Beca jogging toward him, her eyes a little frantic. "What's wrong?" he said.

"There are Koreans all over my room. I think we have a Heaven's Gate situation," she said.

"What?"

She grabbed his hand and dragged him back to her door, pushing it open to allow the hallway light to illuminate the room. Kimmy Jin and her friends truly looked as if they had been part of some end-of-times type scenario. They were strewn about the room, sleeping in seated and laying positions, some of them wearing 3D glasses with video game remotes in their hands. A few people were on Beca's bed. The large-screen plasma flickered on the wall with the console logo.

Jesse swallowed. "Do you see any cups? Is there Kool-Aid in them?" he said.

Beca made an annoyed face. "You're mixing up your mass suicides, nerd. Seriously, I'm freaked by this. Who falls asleep playing video games?"

He stepped into the room gingerly, being careful to avoid body parts. He knelt down and put his ear up to someone's mouth. He could feel the exhale of moist air on his ear, and see the guy's chest rise and fall. As his eyes and ears were adjusting, he noticed everyone was asleep. There was a light snore coming from Kimmy Jin's bed.

"They're definitely asleep, Bec."

"Well, great," she half-whines, with an un-Beca-like mini foot stomp. "Where am I going to sleep?" she mumbles to herself as she looks around the room, helplessly.

Jesse stands up from his crouch, again remembering that Benji is home for the weekend. The possibility of Beca sleeping mere feet from him is just too tantalizing to contemplate. He wants to offer, but following his uncontrollable kissing of moments ago, he's afraid she will just –

"Hey, didn't you just say Benji was home this weekend?"

Beca interrupts his mental debate so close to his own thoughts that he looks up guiltily, as if he had voiced it. She grabs his hand (all this hand grabbing probably instigated the kissing) and hauls him into the hallway, clicking the door shut behind them.

"His bed is empty right? I'll just sleep there," she says. "That's ok, right?" She is looking up at him, her eyes wide.

"Uh, sure, I guess," Jesse says as he attempts to not do a Chandler Bing-type dance in the hallway.

"Okay, saddle up," Beca says as she pats Jesse on the shoulder, stepping behind him.

"What?"

"Come on, bend down a little. I need a horsey ride if we're going all the way to your dorm. I'm tired," she says, as if this is completely logical.

"This is turning into a Monty Python skit," Jesse says, shaking his head.

"This has nothing to do with snakes," Beca says from behind him.

He looks over his shoulder. "Wha? You mean you don't know…of course you don't," he says with a resigned head shake.

"C'mon," she says.

"Beca, this is ridiculous."

"Swanson, you know you're dying to do it."

Sadly, she didn't know how close she was to the truth. Any action that brought their bodies close together was on Jesse's to-do list. "Ok, but only on one condition."

"Name it."

"You have to sing 'Take Me Home Tonight' while I do it."

Jesse could hear the wheels turning in Beca's head behind him. "Counter-conditions."

"Name them."

"Outdoors only, and if we see a Bella, a total stop-drop-and-roll maneuver is required."

They had never talked about the oath, but Jesse didn't question her right now. "Deal."

Jesse squatted a little, and Beca takes two steps back to get a running start. Within seconds, she jumps onto his back as he grabs behind her knees to hold her up. She ruffles his hair and said, "Giddyup, horsey," with a little galloping motion. God help him.

Jesse runs down the hallway, surprising Beca into a shrieking belly laugh. He was relishing the alcohol-inducing abandon that was causing her to respond to him so favorably, as well as the feel of her arms as they linked around his neck, her warm breath on his ear.

He kicks the crash bar on the exterior door and busts out into the cool night air, hiking her up on his back in preparation of crossing campus to his dorm. "Anytime you're ready, Eddie Money," he says.

Beca sings softly, just so he can hear, in that lusty alto that so turns him on, especially when it's vibrating directly in his ear, which seems to have a direct path to his crotch.

_I feel a hunger, it's a hunger  
That tries to keep a man awake at night_

Jesse stops walking. "I'm not taking another step until you take it up a notch. I'm fully aware that you can sing louder than –" and Beca interrupts him by belting out the next section.

_Are you the answer? I shouldn't wonder_

"That," he finishes, and begins walking again.

_When I feel you with my appetite  
With all the power you're releasing  
It isn't safe to walk the city streets alone  
Anticipation is running through me  
Let's find the key and turn this engine on_

Jesse joins in at this point, and their voices together in the brisk silence of the night air gives him that same thrill he gets every time he hears her sing, to the power of 10 because of how his heart beats out of his chest to do it with her.

_I can feel you breathe  
I can feel your heart beat faster, faster…_

And now they are really belting, 80s rock-ballad style:

_Take me home tonight  
I don't want to let you go 'til you see the light  
Take me home tonight  
Listen honey, just like Ronnie sang, _

and Jesse lets up to let Beca sing solo, just so he can hear it for his mental scrapbook:

_"Be my little baby, oh ho oh"_

She doesn't pick up the next verse, but he can feel her smile against his ear, and he is content to just let her be without requiring her conditional performance for horseback. She hums the chorus again, and eventually his dorm comes into view. He puffs up to the front door.

"Okay, here's your stop, m'lady," he says, as she unlocks her arms and slides down his back.

"Don't. Call me m'lady," she says. "Were you this dorky before you lived with Benji or is he rubbing off on you?"

"Eh, probably a little bit of both," he replies absently as he swipes his ID to get them in. During their silent climb to the third floor, he begins to ruminate on what is about to happen. In all the time they've spent together, neither of them has slept in the presence of the other yet. He wonders if she talks in her sleep, and if so, if it's about him. Does she snore? Sleepwalk? Will HE do any of those things? Holy George Lucas, this could be a catastrophic disaster.

And just like that they were standing in front of his door. Beca was looking up at him expectantly. Right, keys.

Jesse switches the light on as they walk in, and Beca slings her jacket on the end of Benji's bed, sitting down and toeing off her boots. She flops back on the bed, arms wide and legs dangling off as Jesse goes about similar disrobing. He tosses a pair of cotton pants and a t-shirt onto his bed, and is reminded that she has nothing to sleep in.

"Hey, do you want a shirt or something?" he asks, eyeing her plaid button down as she inhales and exhales deeply on the bed.

"Sure," she mumbles, close to sleep.

He riffles through the drawer, looking for something soft. His hand clasps on to a Treblemaker t-shirt and he couldn't help but grin at the irony. He pulls that and a pair of drawstring shorts out of his drawer and throws them to her. They land on her face and she sputters in surprise, snatching them away.

"I'm going to wash up and stuff," he says, snagging his toiletry bag and heading out into the hallway.

To his surprise, Beca jumps up and follows him out. "Yes, cleanliness, I need that."

He just stares at her as they stand in the hall.

"What?" she says, "Do you think I can wear this to sleep?" She points to her eye makeup, already becoming raccoon-like after so many hours of wear.

He shrugs and turns, leading her down the hallway. At this hour, it was unlikely they would run into anyone else (sober) in the men's room. He parks himself in front of a mirror, pulling out his toothbrush and toothpaste. He holds the tube out, with a raised eyebrow.

Beca holds out her index finger.

They brush teeth and wash faces, silently exchanging soaps and towels, spitting and spluttering in companionable silence. Jesse glances up a few times into the mirror, to catch Beca looking at him there. He only smiles softly. For some reason, the intimacy of the moment makes him keep his usual grin in check. He wants to continue their easy-like-Sunday-morning tone as long as he can. He knows tomorrow will be another day, complete with Beca's general thorniness that seems to grow back, though it was less now than it once was, after any time they were apart.

Beca's voice came hesitantly after she handed him back his towel a final time, and he was startled to see how soft her eyes were without the dark makeup. "So…we drank a lot tonight."

"Are you feeling sick?" he says, rummaging for some aspirin in his bag.

"No, no. I um..." she glances at the toilet stall.

"OH! Right. I'll just…see you back there," he says, excusing himself back to his room.

Once inside, he changes quickly and flicks off the overhead light, putting Benji's bedside lamp on the dimmest setting. He paces a little bit. Should he lie down, or…

Just then Beca busts in, Kramer-style, giggling. "I went in the wrong room. Your neighbor leaves his door unlocked…and his porn running on his computer."

Jesse laughs. "Glad you found the right room," he says, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Me too," she snorts, heading over to Benji's bed and picks up the Trebles shirt, noticing it out for the first time. "Really?"

"Hey, beggars can't be choosers," he says with a shrug. "The Trebles fund most of my wardrobe these days."

"Alright, alright. Turn around or something," she says, clicking off Benji's lamp for good measure.

"I can't see you anyway."

"If you're hanging out with pervert next door, you might have a pair of night-vision goggles stowed for just this occasion. Turn."

Jesse huffs and gets into bed, turning his face toward the wall and tuning up his auditory senses. He hears her drop what he assumes is her shirt, and pull the other over her head. He images her slim figure carved out in silhouette. A zipper pull and shucked jeans hit the floor. The covers go back on Benji's bed and it creaks as she climbs in.

" 'kay," she says.

Jesse rolls back over. Silence reigns as Beca's deepening breaths fill the room.

"Good night, sweet girl," Jesse says quietly.

"Please tell me that's from a movie," she mumbles.

"It is. I'll add it to your list," he says, punching his pillow to get comfy as his eyes adjust to the dark. He could make out the outline of her hair, down against the pillow, from the lamppost glare through the blinds. Her face was turned to the shadow, or "the dark side," as Benji termed his side of the room.

"'Night, Jesse," she breathes. He took it as a definite sign of affection that she didn't call him nerd or weirdo during her last conscious thought of the day.

Just as he was about to doze off, he hears her sit up suddenly, and his eyes pop open to see her form in the half-light. She reaches behind herself with both arms, putting one hand up one sleeve and then the other, whisking her bra out of the t-shirt in that magical move girls do, and tossing it on the floor. She flops back down, face toward the light this time, and her deep breaths continue.

Jesse rolls his eyes and groans internally. All those Beca-clothes on the floor, and he didn't help put any of them there. Five minutes later, she tosses again, and he could see the profile of her face as she faces the ceiling.

"Jesse?"

He clears his throat. "Yeah?"

"I think I just felt something run over my leg. Maybe a few somethings."

"Ah, yes. That is possible."

"WHAT?" she shrieks, and sits up, drawing her knees up to her chest, her head whipping from side to side rapidly in search of the "somethings."

"Benji keeps all kinds of critters for his magic tricks," he says.

"And you're telling me this NOW?"

"Well, I've never slept in his bed. How am I supposed to know where he keeps 'em?"

She huffs in frustration and jumps up, bare feet padding over to his side of the room. He sits up as she comes to a stop by his bed, bouncing on the balls of her feet a bit, and pulling the t-shirt down over what he could now see were her bare legs. Sweet baby Jesus.

"Move over," she says, looking over her shoulder as if giant rabid hedgehogs were going to hurtle toward her at any minute. "I'm not sleeping over there."

Jesse wasn't going to argue, or point out the logical conclusion that small rodents were not restricted to just Benji's bed, but felt the need to put up a token resistance. "If you insist," he says, and holds up the covers for her as he backs up to the wall. She climbs in and they lay squished together, staring up at the ceiling. Her long hair tickles his neck.

"Damn suicidal Koreans," she blurts, pulling the sheets up to her chin.

"Whatever, Mitchell. I just want to know how you got Kimmy Jin AND Benji to go along with this elaborate plan to get into my bed. I'm very impressed; I would think you'd have the negotiating skills of Castro," he jokes, hoping to leech some tension of the air.

She pinches his arm and turns on her side to face him as he 'ow-s.' "Shut up, Swanson. And no one needs to know about this. There are purple nurples where that pinch came from."

He turns his head and looks at her, mock-horrified. "You wouldn't. I have very sensitive skin."

"Try me," she grins.

He feels her knees bump against his side as she draws up into a fetal position. He aches to pull her toward him and hold her tight, to feel her hair comb through his fingers, to brush his nose against her temple. To inhale her warmth and that damn freesia cologne that taunts him whenever they are together. They lay in silence for a while, their breathing falling into synch as the edge of his consciousness began to get hazy.

" 'Night, Bec," he says again, squeezing the soft, smooth knee he feels close to his hand.

" 'Night," she whispers, resting a hand on his bicep. As he falls off the edge of the world into blackness, with that weight so reassuring on his arm, he swears he hears her add, "Thanks for taking care of me."

But maybe he made that part up.

* * *

_Allusions (because I can't seem to not make them:_

_Glee mashups - Singing in the Rain/Umbrella, Centerfold/Hot in Here_

_The Holidays (lingering kiss :-) )_

_The Incredibles (monologuing)_

_Friends_

_Monty Python & the Holy Grail_

_Eddie Money - Take Me Home Tonight_

_Beautiful Girls (Good night, sweet girl)_

_Seinfeld_

**_Thanks for your reviews and comments! I really do appreciate them, and all those following this fic! _**


	7. Chapter 7

He was waking up at home, in his bed. He knew this because there was a shaggy weight on his chest, and his sister's dog Ginger often liked to crawl into his bed and park her shaggy butt on him while he was sleeping. Her hair sometimes tickled his nose, and her shallow snuffy breaths were what usually woke him up. Also, he could smell coffee and pancakes, and hear oldies playing on the kitchen radio.

Wait, scratch that. He could smell ramen and burnt popcorn, and he could hear a bow-chica-wow-wow soundtrack playing.

Which meant he was not at home, but in his dorm. Which also meant Ginger was not sleeping on his chest, but –

Beca.

He dragged his eyes open and attempted to still every other part of his body, save his breathing. Glancing at the clock, he could tell it was just after 11 a.m., and it was Sunday. He did a mental inventory of what was going on in his bed.

Sometime during the early morning hours of their sleeping, Beca had decided to treat him like a body pillow; her head was on his chest, hair splayed out over his arm. Her right leg was thrown over his, and tucked between his two, toes pressed against his calf where his pants had ridden up. Her right arm was across his torso, clutching his t-shirt. In all, he found it incredibly adorable that she had cuddled up to anything like she was doing to him.

For his own part, his right arm had apparently found its way around her, holding her onto him with a hand that had very naturally settled under the hem of her shirt. It was currently residing on her lower back-slash-rear end, and he wisely moved it on top of the shirt, pulling the material down slightly. Now that he was coming to, he was also aware of his very masculine innate response to having a sleeping female that he was strongly attracted to pressed up against him for all hours. He shifted slightly, trying to think of the Queen or something to pull his disobedient hormones into check before Beca awoke.

He wished he could see her face, and her expression as she slept, but instead he looked down at the top of her head, and listened to her deep, meditative breaths. He gloried in the intimate feel of her body pressed against his with just layers of thin cotton between them, and he counted the minutes until she started to stir, his fingers rubbing slow circles on her back.

First it was her leg that slid along his skin as she stretched. She took a deep inhale and sighed out, arching her back a bit as she snuggled in deeper to his chest. He then heard a sharp inhale, and felt her entire body go taut. He counteracted by tightening the arm that was holding her, and putting his other arm along hers to hold her in place.

"Before you freak out, can I just say something?" Jesse said. Silence met him; she was not acknowledging she was awake yet, so he spoke to the crown of her head.

"Okay. Yes, we are apparently lying here in what would appear to be an odd position. But nothing happened; we were just sleeping. And sometimes, it's nice to just hold on to another person. And our bodies know we need that, and that we trust each other, right," Jesse rambled, hoping to find some conclusion soon, "And that's probably why they did it. Don't overthink it. It's nice, right? Just let yourself relax – you were relaxed a second ago. Is this really so awful?"

Beca sighed as she released a fraction of the tension in her muscles. She did not look up at him, but asked, "How's that psych 101 working out for you?"

"Pretty good so far, we'll see how long this lasts," he said.

She snorts and moves her hand to rest over his heart, and he almost feels it stop. He slowly pulls both arms around her fully and tightens. She never lets him hug her, not really a real hug. Only a side hug, or an around-the-neck from behind hug. He is memorizing the shape of her in his arms. That is the exact moment when he realizes, he loves this girl so much.

It's not just affection, or attraction, or whatever he thought it was. It's love. He is amazed by her, he cares about what she cares about, and what she wants, and what she thinks. He wants to be around her all the time and make her laugh and support her when she needs it. He wants to hold her like this, and he thinks about forever.

During this musing, Beca tilts her head back to look up at him, and it breaks his reverie, but adds to his newfound discovery. Beca looking up at him from his chest, from his bed. He is geeking out.

She smiles a little shyly, a blush blooming on her cheek. "Hey," she manages, her eyes bouncing between his eyes and his mouth.

"Hey," he says, because what else is there to say in this perfect moment? The deep blue-grey of her eyes is searching, diving down into his soul. She repositions a little, turning to prop her chin on her hands stacked on his chest, and looking him square in the face. "Sorry I molested you in my sleep," she said, a teasing glint starting up in those eyes.

He broke his hold on her, putting his left arm behind his head to prop himself up more as well. "I can take it. Didn't I tell you it would only be a matter of time before you got all squiddy and draped yourself all over me?"

Apparently, the reminder that he was a Treble and she, a Bella, was not the perfect thing to say right then. Awesome move, Swanson.

Her face fell minutely, her eyes cutting to the right.

"Don't freak out," he said, his anxiety evident even to himself in his voice.

"Jesse…"

"Yeah?"

"I'm starting to freak out."

"Beca," he started to try his rationalizing speech again, rubbing a hand across her back.

"Ohmigod, I don't have pants on!" she realized, sitting up.

"And, now you're officially freaking out," he said, releasing her as she jumped out of the bed and scurried over to her pile of clothes on the floor. She whipped her pants up her legs (_boy shorts! she was wearing boy short underwear!_) as he sat up. She picked up her bra, staring at it in complete horror. She turned her eyes on him.

"You did that," he said, pointing to her hand. "I take no responsibility."

She folded it in half, brutally shoving it in her back pocket. She was gathering up the pool of t-shirt surrounding her and twisting it into a knot at her belly, zipping and snapping her pants smartly. "Keys, keys," she started mumbling, patting her pockets.

"They're in your coat. Beca, would you just calm down? Nothing happened!" Jesse was starting to feel like a huge fungus that she could not wait to be at least 50 yards from, the way she was reacting. "Am I THAT awful to wake up next to?"

She halted in her movements and looked right at him sharply, her face immediately penitent at his hurt tone. "No, that's not it. You're - ," she said, looking completely at a loss as to what she should, or could, say. "Jesse, you're the most confident person I've ever met. You know you're great. But I'm not, I mean, I can't –" and she gestured to his bed pathetically, looking around helplessly, and his heart sank slightly. But he would not be him if he didn't soldier on.

"Is this because of the oath?" He said, causing her to throw another shocked face his way. "Yeah, I know about it. You forgot I live with the Keith Burns of acapella here. And honestly, Beca, if you're letting a little rule get in your way, you're not the girl I thought you were."

She ignored the jab. "Yeah, the oath. I already told Aubrey to suck it," She grabbed her jacket off the floor and rapidly riffled through the pockets.

"Okay, then what's the problem? C'mon Bec, don't tell me we don't work."

Her riffling slowed and turned contemplative; he took advantage of the opening.

"We have fun, right? I'm hilarious, you love it. We work well together, and not just at the station," he slid off the bed and took a step, holding out his hands in desperation. "Beca," and he waited until she looked up, "I really care about you."

Her hand finally closed on her keys and pulled them out of her jacket, a piece of paper fluttering to the floor.

"Hey, don't lose that. Those are some wise words there," he said, reaching down to pick up the fortune from the night before, holding it out to her.

_A pleasant surprise is waiting for you._

She stared down at it as if it was going to literally snap out and bite her.

"I was right last night, right? Karaoke was a pleasant surprise. What if I'm right, right now?" He asked.

She looked up at him slowly, the fear in her eyes slowly dissolving, replaced by a slightly hysterical laugh, and, as he waited it out, by the fond warmth he sometimes saw when he caught her looking at him when she thought he didn't know. She heaved a huge sigh, and dropped the hand holding her keys and the other holding her jacket down to her sides. His heart was in his throat as he waited for what was next.

"Oh, fuck it," she said, dropping her things and lunging for him in one motion, her arms closing around his neck as he grabbed her around the waist and lifted. Their lips met in a frantic smash, the intensity of the moment pulling their bodies together like magnets. Beca's hands were in his hair, and he never could have imagined it would feel this good to hold her, and this unbelievable to kiss her. His lips sought hers over and over again, and he felt her sigh against him. He was so focused on the moment, he didn't hear the keys in his lock.

"Uh, Jesse?"

Damn that Benji and his eagerness to return to campus. Damn his social ineptitude, that he didn't just quietly close the door and disappear for another hour.

Jesse opened his eyes at Beca's absence from his lips, looking down at her. "Uh," she said, slightly releasing her hold on his neck. He released her and let her feet fall flat against the floor.

"Oh, hey Beca! I didn't see you there," Benji said cheerily, dragging his laundry bag into the room and slinging it across the floor. He leaned back out in the hallway for the rest of his stuff.

"Yeah," she says, eyes targeting her boots and then darting back to Jesse's. "And, I'm out," she said, throwing his words back at him from the other week. Her body was definitely craving a release from this anxious situation, but he could see some humor in her eyes as well. It wasn't totally a lost cause.

Jesse reached down for her keys and jacket, handing them to her after she shoved her feet in her boots, stomping a bit to get them fully on. They both turned their focus to the door when they heard a clanging, only to see Benji trying to get through the opening with a large wooden box that had sword handles sticking out of it in various directions. Eventually he fit it through on an angle and practically fell as he dropped it inside the room.

"You guys want to see my new trick?" Benji asked, eagerly. "I'm expanding from close-up magic."

"Um, why don't you show Jesse and I'll see it next time, if you both survive," Beca replied, glancing at Jesse with laughing eyes. She edged toward the door, pulling her jacket on and closing it over the Trebles shirt. Jesse trailed after her, as if he didn't want to let the connection they had established be cut.

"Better button that up," he said, leaning against the door frame as she headed down the hallway. "Don't want to get accused of a walk of shame."

Beca turned and walked backwards, trying to keep the grin off her face. "Oh, I'm not ashamed," she said. "I'm rather pleasantly surprised, actually." And she turned and headed off.

"Watch those swords, nerd," she called over her shoulder. "I like most of your parts where they are."

The grin that erupted on Jesse's face was interrupted only by the sound of a dragging metal and he remembered his earlier aggravation.

"Benji!" he exclaimed as he walked back into the room, closing the door behind him. "We need to talk."

* * *

**I am going to keep this pretty much on canon with the movie, just a slight deviation here, and perhaps the next chapter...but I think these could have plausibly happened in the movie and not diverted the storyline too much. Thanks for your reviews, even the guests that I can't reply to! Hopefully you are enjoying their interactions!**


	8. Chapter 8

Though his attention was oddly riveted onstage at the Sockapellas, (an a capella car wreck – he could not look away. Even if he turned his head away, his eyes _would. not. disengage.)_ his body was definitely aware when the Bellas had entered the building. It seemed that the suggestion of Beca's presence was the only thing that would break this sick connection.

He was finally able to avert his gaze from the stage to the entryway and glimpsed the group of darkly dressed ladies. The stage lights threw a soft glow on Beca's profile, standing in the front of the group as she watched the competition, and he could see her chest heaving slightly as she caught her breath.

It had only been a little over a week since they had kissed. In some ways, nothing had changed. They were both busy with their respective groups getting ready for regionals, and keeping up with classes. Shifts, ironically, did not overlap at the radio station. Meal schedules didn't really align, with all their extra practices.

But in small ways, that meant infinitely more, things had altered. Something big was on the horizon. Like, on a whim in the college store, he snapped a picture of a toothbrush and sent it to her, with the text, "For the next time you sleep over."

Beca's response? _"Is my mouth going to be doing something dirty?" _

Gulp. (He bought the toothbrush.)

This initiated a string of texts about fingers as toothbrushes, and other uses for fingers, etc., etc. that had him blushing like a tween. In his crate of CDs three days ago, he had found a packet of Kool Aid with a post-it that said: _In case you need an excuse to initiate a sleepover. Heard KJ planning a gaming marathon with the buds._

It was the first time he'd ever seen her handwriting. And she'd signed the note, simply, with a large, flourishy _B._

Yesterday, he purposely skipped his Intro to Lit Comp course and waited outside the gymnasium for her to get out of volleyball because he _needed_ to see her, touch her, kiss her again. As she stumbled out, loose sweats hanging off her hips and her white uniform t-shirt clinging to her chest, he called out to her.

"Hey, Misty May!"

She stopped and deliberately slow-turned his way, the glare in her eyes not quite matching the smile that was being restrained on her lips. "Don't let the coach catch you here," she said, walking up to him. "She's not a fan."

"Of the Trebles?" he asked, tugging on his hoodie to hide the logo under his backpack strap.

"No, of men." She pointedly looked at his crotch. "Bit harder to hide, isn't it?"

"Especially when you're around," Jesse replied, stepping toward her with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm, dragging him out into the sunny patio by the auxiliary gym, a relatively quiet, low-traffic area where they were unlikely to run into anyone. They dropped onto a bench and caught up on their week, Beca telling him stories of Aubrey's intense practices while he played with the stack of leather bracelets on her arm. If she noticed he had taken her appendage into his keeping, she didn't comment. In fact, she leaned her body toward his, tucking her leg up onto the bench. The smell of her sweat and her shampoo, coupled with the sun in her hair and the ease with which she sat with him, were lulling him into a near drunken state of euphoria.

"Oh, and the outfits," she continued, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Wait till you see the outfits."

"You forget, I have seen it. In various parts and pieces," he said.

"Yeah, but altogether? It's total airline attendant meets deb. I don't even know where they GOT those short-sleeve jackets."

"I'm sure you'll look amazing in it," Jesse says, looking down and catching her eye. "If you can make gym sweats and a sport bra look good, you can make anything look good."

Beca started, sitting up straight away from him, remembering how gross she looked (and probably smelled). "Ugh, I'm disgusting. How can you be near me right now?"

"You're beautiful. I'd vote for nearer if you're interested in my actual opinion," he said, his eyes searching out hers. He leaned in slightly, keeping his eyes on hers for signs of retreat, and her hand slid up his arm from the elbow to rest lightly on his bicep. Just as her eyes began to flutter closed, they heard,

"HEY FLAT BUTT!"

They both started and turned to see Amy signaling from 30 yards away, her arms gesturing as if she were bringing a 747 in for a landing. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled again.

"EMERGENCY PRACTICE, PRONTO! Wrap up that man candy for later!"

Beca flushed, jumped and shouldered her bag in record time. "Sorry," she said, pulling her hand out of his grasp, "but Amy has THE biggest mouth, and if she gets there first…"

"Yeah, go," Jesse said, standing as well. "I'll see you tomorrow night. Can't wait for the fashion show."

Later that night, Beca texted him a picture of her Bella's scarf tied around her wrist, headphone tattoo prominently displayed. It was labeled, "I used this to shut Fat Amy up." He asked if she was referring to her tiny fist, or her scarf, and also sent her the link to the "I'm Too Sexy" video.

And now, he bounced a little on his toes in the dark as the Sockapellas retreated from the stage and the Bellas did their warm up chant (unsuccessfully). As she had said, this was the first time he was seeing her in the entire ensemble, not to mention, WITH the entire ensemble in a competition. He wanted to see her, but he wanted to hear her sing as well. He knew she wasn't soloing, but he would bet Benji's Dave Blain DVD collection that he could pick out her vocals from the mix, with ease.

As the Bellas mounted the stage, it took Jesse a second to find Beca's legs in the mix, so little had he seen of them. She was a Katherine Hepburn-type girl, always in pants. All those pairs of black heels looked the same, though all the legs definitely did not. He finally found her, her adorable calf muscle bulging from the height and her knees a little awkward, as he recalled the first day he saw her sporting those heels.

* * *

_Jesse was laying under the radio station desk with a flashlight in his teeth and a small putty knife in his hand. It was the 80s lunch hour and the DJ on deck was sporting some Fine Young Cannibals, which he was not ashamed to sing along to, in his best falsetto. It was a week after the aca-initiation, and he was looking forward to seeing Beca today to tease her yet again about the fact that she was a Bella._

_Just as he started thinking about her, two black heels came into his peripheral vision, complete with socks and rolled up pants. He sat up slightly, pulling the flashlight out of his teeth and squinting out of his den up at Beca._

_"Tell me about it," he said, sweeping his eyes from her feet to her head, "Stud."_

_She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, and then slung her bag on the desk. _

_"What," she said, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one leg, "are you doing in there?"_

_"Well, just as the top of the desk if off limits for any kind of reproductive liquids, apparently, there is also a no-tolerance policy for items that may be adhered underneath. Mostly, gum – though I've come across a stray booger or two," he said, holding up the putty knife. _

_"Wow, Luke REALLY hates you," she said, a laugh pulling at her lips._

_"And Aubrey must really hate you. That can be the only reason you're sporting this Material Girl look," he said gesturing to her feet. She sighed and plopped down on the nearest chair, kicking the heels off in a shuffle of leather. She pulled her socks off and brandished her swollen toes and raw heels in his direction. _

_"And all I got was a hoodie," he joked. "Those look painful." _

_"We have to wear them all week," she said, rolling up her socks and tossing them toward her bag. "You know I was voted most-likely-to-mutiny, but I also don't want to have blisters all season or fall on my face. Though that wouldn't be worse than puking on the audience, so, relief there." Beca leaned over to grab the shoes and wedge them back on. _

_Jesse sat up all the way, smacking his head off the desk. "Are you crazy? Just go barefoot," he said, rubbing his head. _

_"First of all, in here? Ew. Secondly, like I said, I need to break them in," Beca said, standing tentatively and walking toward her crate on the desk. _

_Jesse lay back down with his putty knife and took in her feet. The delicate bones were set off by the cut of the shoe, and a tiny vein pulsed as it led up her to ankle. She must have leaned over toward his crate, because her right foot popped a bit in the air, pointed back as she kept her balance. He was mesmerized by this incredibly feminine part of her; so far, the Beca he knew was kind of a non-conformist smartass. The longer he checked out her feet in those shoes, the more he was imagining them in other positions; namely, wrapped around his waist as he pressed her against a shelf of CDs, his open mouth scaling the line of her jugular as she gripped his hair and breathed his name…_

_"Weirdo." He started back to reality to see Beca bent over and peering at him under the edge of the desk. _

_"Yeah, hm, what?" _

_"Don't get all Tarantino on me about the shoes, ok?" _

_Now it was Jesse's turn to narrow his eyes, though when Beca turned to walk away, he may or may not have sat up to watch. _

* * *

Aubrey's pitch pipe brought him back to Regionals – Jesse Swanson, present and accounted for. He was missing the opening bars of Ace of Base, and like everyone in the audience, focused in on Aubrey's solo in anticipation of Upchuck: The Sequel. Once she cleared it, his focus went back to Beca, her face a disinterested expression as she moved into the formation for "Eternal Flame." The pumping heart shape she half-heartedly pulsed made him snort silently to himself, but drew his attention to her dangerously unbuttoned button-down, and his memory to his first encounter with said garment…

* * *

_It was raining as Jesse yanked open the door of the student union and dashed in, pushing his hood off his head. It was raining, and that always made him crave a strawberry milkshake. He would just run by the Barden Beverage counter on his way to…_

_On his way to see Beca, apparently, who was camouflaged by a giant potted palm in the corner of the union, deeply immersed in her headphones and the laptop that rested on her propped-up legs. The riff-off was two nights ago and he was looking for an opportunity to get his suggested movie education (and obligatory alone time with the lights out that accompanied it) scheduled. This appeared to be it._

_He stooped and drew closer, parting the palm to peek through. "Whatcha doin'?" _

_Beca started, her legs dropping as she grabbed on to her laptop to save it from a crash worse than death. "Jesus, you scared me," she accused, hoisting her laptop back up with one hand while the other eased the headphones to rest on her shoulders. It was then that Jesse noticed she was wearing a white button-down, with more buttons open than were secured. As Beca closed her laptop and bent to slide it into her bag, he glimpsed the edge of a nude bra peeking through the gap, a flirty lace border dropping a slight shadow onto her pale breast. _

_Beca looked up in time to catch his guilty eye as it popped from her cleavage back to her face. _

_"What?" she said, her cheek coloring. _

_"What are you wearing? Are you bussing tables at the Bev?" he asked, pointing toward the soda shop down the corridor._

_"Yeah, didn't you see my saddle shoes and the perky bow in my hair?" Perky brought Jesse's gaze back to her chest, which made Beca draw her open drapey cardigan across her with both hands, effectively ending his peep show. Beca sighed._

_"It's another Aubrey wardrobe mandate. Button-downs all week to prepare for our competition outfits. She wants to make sure we all know how to wear them without falling out of them, after what happened to Janet."_

_"You mean, Ms. Jackson?" Jesse quickly retorted._

_"Only if you're nasty," she said, biting her cheek to keep from giving him the satisfaction of a grin. _

_"And…are you successful at…staying in?" Most awkward conversation ever. Must keep eyes on face. Must not check to see if any falling is occurring at said moment._

_"Except for when I was in my Feminist, Gender & Sexuality class yesterday, already taking a verbal whipping from the prof, and I accidentally dropped a Cheeto down there, everything's been great." _

_"Was there a Cheeto recovery team, because if you need a hand, or two – "_

_"No, no, no, everything is in tip top shape – or is it tit top?" Beca stared off into the distance as she considered. With an intake of breath she was back. "I only have this one button-down, I'm not really a button-down girl, so I keep having to wash it every night. And why am I telling you all this?" _

_"I have no idea. Why don't you tell me more about the adventures of your cleavage over milkshakes?" He said, offering his hand to pull her out of the seat. _

* * *

The pounding of the mic on Amy's chest brought him back to realize that he was missing most of their number in all his ruminations on Beca's wardrobe. He watched her circle around as the beginnings of "Turn the Beat Around" sounded out, her pale legs flashing under the short skirt, and he couldn't help one more flashback…

* * *

_As he headed down the hall toward her room, laptop and DVD in hand, singing a little Robert Palmer (damn that 80s lunch hour – she's so fine, there's no telling where the money went/she's so fine, there's no other way to go), he could make out some voices coming from behind her door, one of them being Beca's. _

_Voices? Beca didn't talk to Kimmy-Jin. Perhaps their viewing of A Beautiful Mind last week _had _really affected her…_

_He paused outside her cracked door, falling silent, to overhear this exchange:_

_"No way, Chloe."_

_"I'm telling you, just let me do this. Trust me, you'll like it."_

_"I don't think that's…huh. Yeah, I guess that's not bad."_

_"Right? Beca, you've got killer gams. You need to show them off." _

_"Uh, yeah, okay. Could you just move your hand to…oh yeah. That's even better."_

_"I knew you'd come around. You're not a Bella until you've done a little…experimenting." _

_"Oh, Chloe, I should have known…after the shower…" Beca's voice was a little breathy, and the open ended-ness of that sentence caused Jesse to step closer to the door. She never did tell him what happened after alluding to that incident. Also, he was slightly jealous that anyone, male or female, was making her breathy if it wasn't him. In addition to jealousy, he was slightly aroused as any red-blooded male would be in this voyeuristic moment. _

_Another Baker Hall resident passed by as Jesse stalked by the open door; he gave her a brief smile and nod, though she threw him a suspicious look. He heard her pause after passing him and call out, "Mitchell, there's a stalker by your door," before continuing on. _

_He rolled his eyes and straightened just in time to face a doorway full of Beca, her hand on the jamb and she and Chloe dissolved in giggles. She was wearing a tight purple cami with a lacy top, and her performance skirt, all pinned up around the hem, along with the death-by-heels shoes._

_"WHAT was going on in here?" Jesse asked, a timid grin on his lips._

_"Oh, we just thought we'd give you an earful," Chloe said, gathering up her straight pins and measuring tape from the floor. _

_Beca was doubled over, laughing. "I wish…I could have seen…your face," she heaved, nearly toppling into him. _

_He threw an arm around her waist, pulling her against his hip to steady her, noting how easily she moved into his orbit and how she didn't shy away from this touch. _

_"Well, how'd you know it was me?"_

_"Because you've been singing that song all day!" she said in exasperation. _

_"And here I was, worried that all that serenading was going to waste while you were playing for the other team," he joked, glancing at Chloe. _

_"Oh, I know she's completely kissable – but off limits," Chloe winked as Beca straightened and choked a little. _

_"Dude no, I'm not a Lilith Faire girl, just to be clear," Beca said, hand on hip. _

_"Got it, got it. I'll leave you guys alone – three's a crowd, at least in this case." Chloe edged out of the room, leaving Beca, with all her skin exposure, and Jesse, hand awkwardly on the back of his neck. Staring at each other. _

_She pushed him back into the hallway. "Just let me change!" she said, closing the door on him. _

* * *

And, boy, had she changed. Beca continued to morph from this standoffish recluse with a passion for pitch and a vendetta against all well-meaning humans, into a reluctant friend, then to a flirty sidekick, to a girl that he didn't think he could do without. He found a new reason to love her every minute of every day.

Even now, when he didn't think he could physically find her more appealing than he already did, watching her strut around in that Bella's uniform was _kind of _ a major turn on. All those memories behind all the wardrobe elements, plus the way the entire thing hugged her in all the right places, and the simplicity of her hair swept up with golden hoops that caught the stage lights on that last turn, was creating a need to grab her as soon as this competition was over, regardless of who won, and sneak away to some broom closet or breakout room to demand all the kisses he'd missed out on over the week.

And he noticed, as he had those thoughts, as Fat Amy continued to drop bombs on Miami Sound Machine, the light in her eyes. Beca was overwhelmingly amused and delighted by this performance, for whatever reason. She was having fun on stage, watching Amy and fulfilling her choreographic mission. The way her eyes crinkled and her smile would not quit were giving him even more reasons to love her.

Oh yes. In the famous words of Cher Horowitz, he was majorly, totally, butt crazy in love with Beca. And the Barden world was soon going to know it.

Jesse clapped enthusiastically for the Bellas, heedless of Bumper's glare of warning, and caught Beca's eye for a tease as the group filed past. He was practically bouncing to get on stage and charm the boy shorts off her, with plans to follow that charming later with some good, old-fashioned, hot and heavy, making out.

Yes, that was definitely how tonight was going to go. It was inevitable.

**Thanks for sticking with this fic - sorry I have been slow to update. Schedule changes have given me very little free/alone time to work on drafting. **

**Songs:**

**Right Said Fred - I'm Too Sexy**

**Fine Young Cannibals - She Drives Me Crazy**

**Robert Palmer - Simply Irresistible**

**Tell me what other allusions you saw/noticed/caught :-) I love to know who is clicking along with my crazy brain...**

**Appreciate your reviews and comments!**


	9. Interlude

This was a crazy dream; Jesse knew, because it had all the hallmarks of one. And also because he'd had Spaghetti O's at 2 a.m. the night before, and that always gave him weird dreams.

Insane dreams always featured him franticly looking for someone he couldn't find, like how even though he searched high and low he could not find Beca anywhere directly after the Trebles trounced Regionals and he was looking for a victory necking session.

Other tell-tale indicators of freaky dreams: scenarios that don't make sense, like the girl you love intervening (out of nowhere? Where was she a second ago when his mind was on kissing?) when you're being threatened and going Vin Diesel on someone's ass.

Dialogue with little logic, like Amy talking about vertical running.

Slowed or accelerated time, like the molasses-like shattering and tinkling of glass in the window, and then suddenly, he was waiting outside the local police department. And Beca's dad was there. He had never even MET Beca's dad.

It was definitely a dream up until that moment when Beca was telling him he was not her boyfriend. When that happened, it was like he was suddenly awakened, and not in the dreamy, fantastical style of Sleeping Beauty. More like in the gallon-of-freezing-water-to-your-face way style of boot camp hazing.

He thought he had finally been getting somewhere. They were growing closer, she was trusting him, and she had to know he only had her best interests at heart, at all times. And though she refused to let people get close to her, she had let him.

Not close enough to understand everything that made Beca Mitchell tick. Definitely not close enough to truly understand the complicated relationship she had with her dad, which was the polar opposite to the supportive, loving interaction he had with his own parents, who would have bailed him out in a nanosecond and been listening sympathetically the entire ride home, completely on his side.

The ride back to campus in the silence of her dad's car froze him out even more. He felt sopping wet and icy, from his heart to his toes, drenched in the failure of his first sorta-boyfriendly duty of saving the damsel. He clenched his hands together and stared out the window, watching almost eight months of work in getting to know this girl fly by in the shape of scraggly forest branches and moonlit windows, empty in their reflections.

Not only had he failed at it, he did so with such utter misery that she felt the need to cut him with her words. He'd been on the receiving end of her sarcasm many a time, and been witness to it as well, but never before had she struck out at him with true malice in her tone. The cruelty of using the exact words that she knew would affect him the worst showed just how wrong he had been, both in engaging a parental figure, and maybe, in his assessment of their relationship.

When they arrived back at Barden, Beca slammed out of the car before it was in park with no backward glance at either of the two men. Jesse was reaching for the handle when Dr. Mitchell spoke.

"Son," he said, looking in the rearview mirror.

"Uh, yeah?" Jesse said, meeting his gaze.

"Don't take it too hard. She always lashes out when she's angry, but she'll calm down."

Jesse highly doubted it.

"Just give her a day or two to cool off."

"Ok, thanks. Have a good night, Dr. Mitchell," he said, opening the door. "Sorry to wake you up."

Dr. Mitchell nodded and Jesse exited the car, turning toward his dorm. He heard a window roll down behind him, and turned when Dr. Mitchell yelled.

"Young man!"

Jesse turned around.

"Thanks for being a good friend. She needs those, more than you know. If you stick with it, I think you'll find out how amazing she can be," Dr. Mitchell said. Jesse raised his hand in acknowledgement as Beca's dad rolled up the window and drove away from campus.

"That part, I already know," he said to the darkness. Whether they would be amazing, together, ever again, was a mystery.


End file.
